After All
by bourbon
Summary: Two years after a painful breakup, Jordan and Woody are thrown together. Can they pick up the pieces of their relationship? A sequel of sorts to "Positive." COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_This is a sequel, of sorts, to "Positive." I decided to make this its own story, rather than continuing "Positive," because I kind of like "Positive" as a stand-alone story, and I think the tone of this one is going to be different than "Positive." My stuff is usually fairly internal and angsty, and I am hoping this one will be a lot lighter!_

_XXXXXXXXX_

It was the kind of gathering Jordan dreaded the most: a crowded hotel ballroom filled shoulder to shoulder with Boston's most superficial citizens. A fat, cigar-chomping developer guffawed with a weasel-faced bureaucrat. A faded socialite with a frozen face full of Botox flitted around the room. A tipsy trust-fund baby draped herself on some B-list local celebrity.

Amid the to-do, she stood silently clutching Reed Davis' hand, feeling as out of place as she always did at these $500-a-plate rubber chicken fundraiser dinners. Reed was talking to an unctuous state representative in some kind of semi-intelligible legal mumbo-jumbo. They would break into gut-busting laughter every few seconds and slap each other on the shoulder. Mr. Oily would look at her occasionally and give her a wink, and she would smile back, but really, they might as well have been speaking Swahili.

Finally, Mr. Oily slithered away, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Reed squeezed her hand and leaned down to her. "Have I told you how unbelievably gorgeous you look tonight?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes, but it bears frequent repeating." She smiled up at him and gave his hand an affectionate squeeze in return. She _did_, of course, look gorgeous. She was wearing a slinky, midnight blue, cocktail-length dress she'd had in her closet for a year, and she had haphazardly pinned her hair up in all of about 20 seconds. Still, she outshone all the grande dames and debutantes who had spent hours with their stylists.

She hated that she had to come to these things. Only in his early 40's, Reed Davis was one of the city's top lawyers. His influence and generous donations had helped elect the current Mayor, and he had now turned his attention to the upcoming race for the Governor's seat. John Hogan, an old law school friend, was in the running for the state house, and Reed had become a close advisor. He had his own political ambitions too, and was waiting for just the right time to make a run for the Senate.

Jordan had known all this when they had started seeing each other the year before. She had thought it was something she could easily handle. A dinner here, a rally there. But as the campaign season heated up, she found herself at more and more of these things, wearing a plastic smile and enough jewelry to support a small 3rd world country.

But she had to come because she was Reed Davis' girlfriend. Lover. Companion. Mistress. Whatever. _Girlfriend_ seemed so high school. Men like Reed Davis didn't have _girlfriends_.

Garret had dragged Jordan along to some obligatory awards banquet the previous year, and Reed had been seated at their table. He was witty, handsome, intelligent, charming, and charismatic. Like every one else in his orbit, she had simply gotten swept along. A year later, here they were, and she still wasn't sure how it had all happened, much less what to call herself.

Reed said something to her then, but she couldn't hear it over the din. She cupped her ear, and he bent down to repeat himself.

"I said, 'How are you holding up?'"

She gave him a light, dismissive wave. "Fine. Don't worry about me. Go schmooze. I'll...I don't know. Powder my nose."

He tilted his head and looked at her in knowing disbelief.

"I'm _fine!_" she laughed. "Go!" He planted a kiss on her forehead, and she was about to beat a hasty retreat for the ladies' room when they were aware of someone calling his name in the crowd.

"Reed! Reed Davis!" It was a petite blonde, late-20's maybe, with a spray-tan and a beauty pageant smile. She traveled on a cloud of perfume.

Reed smiled and stuck out his hand as she squeezed herself between two fat cats. "Kristi McArdle. Great to see you here. Congratulations on the big promotion."

"Thanks! I'm very excited!" she chirped.

Reed turned to Jordan. "Kristi McArdle, this is Jordan Cavanaugh. Kristi's come on board with the public relations team for John's campaign."

"Congratulations," Jordan said mildly.

"Thanks! I'm very excited!" she said again, in what apparently was her standard line. Her gaze was intent, and her eyes were cartoonishly huge. Jordan stifled a laugh and looked away.

"Speaking of congratulations, I'd really like for you to meet my fiance." Kristi stood on her toes and waved to someone in the crowd over Jordan's shoulder. "He's just getting me a drink. Here he comes!"

No. God, no. Jordan did not want to meet Kristi's fiance. He would be named _Chip_ or _Kip_ and was maybe a tennis pro or a local weatherman on one of the cable channels. Out of the corner of her eye, she could just see a tall figure emerging from the tuxedoes behind her.

Jordan braced herself and refreshed her phony smile.

"Come here, sweetheart. I have someone very important for you to meet!" Kristi grabbed him by the arm. The wine glass he was carrying bobbled and sloshed onto the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket.

The fiance laughed. "Oh, well. It's a rental."

The familiarity of the voice hit Jordan like a splash of icy water. She felt her knees begin to give way from under her.

Kristi pulled her fiance into view.

Woody.

"This is my fiance, Woody Hoyt." He looked up then and realized that it was Jordan before him, clutching Reed's arm to steady herself. The laugh died in his throat.

They stood there, eyes locked in silence. They were both aware that there was speaking and introductions were being made, but neither heard a thing.

Kristi began to tug on his arm. "And this is...Miss Cavanuaugh. I'm sorry, I didn't get your first name."

Woody offered his hand. "It's _Dr_. Cavanaugh, actually," he said slowly. "And we've met."

After a moment, she reached out and took his hand. The tension was palpable.

"Hello, Woody," she said, finding her voice.

Jordan couldn't read him. Was he cold? Indifferent? Her heart pounded.

Kristi looked up at him questioningly.

"Uh, yeah. We used to work together sometimes in the M.E.'s office," Jordan said to her quickly. No need to go into their history.

"It's been a couple of years, hasn't it, Jordan?" His tone was pleasant and even.

"Yeah, I guess it _has_ been awhile."

"Too long," he said simply. "You look great."

She smiled with relief. Any anger Woody had felt towards her had been lifted.

"So do you." And he did. Handsome, square-jawed, with that open, honest face and those blue eyes. A flood of memories from their time together came back to her. He smiled at her then, a warm, wistful smile, and his fingers brushed against hers.

It had been two years since she'd seen or spoken to him. Their temporary breakup had turned into a week, then a month, and the time between phone calls and emails lengthened until there was nothing, and he had transferred out of Homicide to Major Crimes. And that was it. She had almost blotted him and all that had happened between them from her mind.

_Almost_. And here he was again.

"Say, I don't mean to interrupt the reunion," Reed started sharply,"But if you'll excuse us, I see someone I really need JoJo to meet."

Woody raised his eyebrows and looked at Jordan. Suddenly, Reed's affectionate nickname for her was embarrassing. She blushed and looked down at her feet.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want to monopolize _JoJo_ here," Woody said, a hint of a snicker in his voice.

Reed and Kristi exchanged goodbyes, and Kristi gave Jordan's hand a firm shake.

Woody looked at Jordan a moment before being steered away by Kristi. "It was great seeing you again, Jordan," he said sincerely.

"You too, Woody." She smiled back at him and watched him go.

He looked back over his shoulder at her and mouthed the word, "_JoJo?"_ and rolled his eyes.

She let out a spontaneous laugh and shrugged.

"What was that?" asked Reed.

"Nothing. Just a joke."

She followed Reed as he worked the room for another fifteen minutes or so and then asked if they couldn't just skip out early.

She spotted Kristi and Woody sitting at a table as they left the ballroom. They were laughing and talking, and he rested his hand atop hers. Her engagement ring sparkled in the light.

XXXXXXXXX

They drove home to Reed's house in charged silence. He had driven right past Jordan's building. She had wanted to spend the night in her own bed, alone, but she had been too weary to protest.

She sat removing her jewelry at the dressing table he had bought for her. He stood in her peripheral vision, watching her as he neatly hung his tuxedo jacket in its garment bag.

"So. You and this detective. I take it there's a history."

"_Ancient_ history." She shrugged nonchalantly.

"How ancient?"

"Two years."

He was pacing the floor behind her. "You call two years ancient history, JoJo?"

"What...is this cross-examination, counselor?" she asked wearily.

He continued undressing in the thick silence. "What happened?"

"I don't know," she said in mild irritation at his interest in the subject. "At different places in our lives. Not meant to be. Pick your cliche."

"Is it a problem? Seeing him?"

"No," she said after perhaps too long of a beat.

"Because we're bound to be thrown together again like this, and I don't want it to be a problem."

"It's not a problem." She looked up at him finally. "Cross my heart."

He studied her a long moment, and then smiled as if he had decided to believe her. He kneeled down beside her, brushed her hair from her neck, and kissed her there. "I've been wanting to do this all night."

She bristled inwardly. "I think I'm just going to turn in. That last drink went right to my head. Do you mind?"

"No. Of course not." He said understandingly, although she could tell from the way he pinched his lips that he was a trifle hurt. "I have some papers to go over, anyway. Good night, Jordan."

He left her there, and she slid between the sheets and stared up at the ceiling. She lay there for a long while, trying to sort through the pile of emotions she felt after seeing Woody tonight.

There had been the initial shock of seeing him. Then the panic. She had not dealt with things well after her miscarriage, and she knew that she was to blame for their breakup. If he had been angry, he would have been justified.

Too, there was a feeling of undeniable sadness. Not only had she lost Woody, she had lost a child, too. She had not been prepared for motherhood, and on some level she was relieved when the pregnancy ended. Still, nine months later, she broke down in sobs one afternoon and grieved for what might have been.

But as she lay here now, she knew that she had been genuinely glad to see Woody. She was not only fine with seeing him again, she was actually looking forward to it.

Not in a romantic way, of course. She was secure in her relationship with Reed. What woman wouldn't want to be with Reed Davis?

She had been friends with Woody long before they had ever become romantically involved, and they could be friends again.

Friends. Yes. She was a big girl. She could handle it.

She rolled onto her side and hugged the pillow to herself. She was aware then that Reed had entered the room. She felt the bed sag under his weight and his breath on her neck as he bent over her to see if she was awake.

She snapped her eyes shut tight. He waited a moment, and then with a sigh he clicked off the light and rolled over.

She drifted off easily into sleep, thinking of the music and the champagne and the familiar feel of Woody's hand in hers.


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, so I lied. There _will _be angst..._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As Saturday night loomed ever closer, the thought of seeing Jordan again churned through Woody's head.

It was a cocktail party given at the home of some bigwig donor. Kristi was thrilled. It was to be an exclusive affair, and she had managed to wangle an invitation for herself. She chattered excitedly on the way to the party while he sank further into his moody silence.

He was ambivalent about seeing Jordan. When she had asked for time apart two years earlier, he had carried on in an awful hope for weeks. The wound had remained open for a long while.

There had been some measure of healing after he transferred out of Homicide, and life had begun to move along at an agreeable clip. He had settled into a new routine at work, started seeing Kristi. If he thought of Jordan at all, he managed to bury her quickly in some distant corner of his consciousness.

Still, seeing her at the banquet had sent a pleasant ripple through him, and he found a small part of himself hoping he would see her again tonight.

"Don't be so nervous."

"Huh?"

Kristi had taken his hand as he stood uneasily in the foyer. "Your palms. They're sweating."

"Oh. Sorry." He wiped them hastily on his jacket.

"You'll be fine, Woody." Kristi patted his hand reassuringly.

He had begun to feel lately as if he were in the on-ramp of some six-lane super highway, about to get sucked into something he couldn't quite keep up with.

She grabbed his arm, and they merged into the noise of the chattering crowd.

Jordan saw him first. She stood with Reed and an excrutiatingly dull little man whose family had made a fortune doing something or other. She wasn't really paying all that much attention. She would look up expectantly every time the front door opened, and her heart sank a little when it was just another fawning campaign staffer or muckety-muck donor.

Then finally, just as she had decided, to her disappointment, that perhaps they weren't coming, Woody and Kristi rounded the corner and stood in the doorway. She wore a grin from ear to ear and an unflattering eggplant-colored suit with sequins on the collar and cuffs. It was the kind of thing worn only by mothers-of-the-bride or Miss America contestants during the interview segment.

Woody scanned the room, his hands jammed nervously in his pants pockets. Then, his eyes fell on Jordan, and he smiled a little smile and waved. She nodded back at him and tried to ignore the shudder of excitement she suddenly felt at his appearance.

He looked as if he were about to cross to her to speak, but Kristi had his arm then, and they began the dizzying whirl of introductions and small talk.

Jordan watched as Kristi and Woody circulated around the party. From across the room, Woody turned once to Jordan and shrugged helplessly. She smiled and gave him a reassuring thumbs-up.

It was like that all evening. Someone was always eager to get Reed's ear, so Jordan managed to make herself look busy. Waiting at the bar for a refill, reapplying her lipstick in the powder room countless times, listening appreciatively to the piano player as he played a string of melancholy standards.

When she thought no one was looking, she slipped into an empty room and out onto the terrace, knowing it would be awhile before Reed came looking for her. This far from the city, the stars were brilliant against the black sky. A cool breeze cut through the thick August air.

She heard footsteps on the stones of the terrace and did not have to turn to know that it was Woody. He had found her, and his presence was neither surprising nor unwelcome. He came and stood next to her.

"Do you ever stop feeling like a fifth wheel at these things?" he finally asked with an exasperated laugh.

"You'll either learn how to fake it, or you'll learn to find the good hiding places."

"Think maybe you can show me the ropes?"

"Watch and learn, newbie."

They shared a small, easy laugh. She had been anxious before, wondering what to say if she and Woody ever found themselves alone. _So far, so good,_ she thought to herself and sipped at her drink.

"So, how've you been?" She asked with animation.

"Fine. Fine. How about yourself?" he responded in kind.

"Good. Real good." A pause.

"How's work?"

"Same as always. Overworked, underpaid."

He chuckled mildly. "Yeah, yeah."

"How about you? How are things down at the Boston P.D.? I kind of lost track of you after you left Homicide." She wanted to suck it back in as soon as she said it, but it hung there in the air. His face clouded over. The lightness of their breezy banter had been punctured.

"Work's fine, Jordan," he said curtly.

There was another pause. She searched for something to say.

"So. When's the big day?" It seemed the sort of thing she should ask.

"After the election." His voice was upbeat again. "December. Kristi's going to be pretty busy until then, and she's always wanted a Christmas wedding."

"Sounds nice. I'm really happy for you." She wanted to mean it, anyway. Ending their relationship had been her decision. She had always known logically that his life would go on without her, but the heart is rarely logical. Woody was not Jordan's anymore, but she couldn't quite wrap her head around the idea that he was someone else's.

"She's great, Jordan." She immediately regretted bringing up the topic. He plowed on. "You have a lot in common, really. She's very driven. Put herself through school."

"Ah, really? She sounds _perfect._" If he noticed the hint of sarcasm in her voice, he ignored it.

"You'd really like her. Maybe the four of us could have dinner together or you two could meet for lunch." There was a pause where she assumed she was supposed to respond, but she did not.

There was a lull. He rocked back onto his heels. She rattled the ice in her glass and drained the last of its contents. After a promising start to the conversation, an uneasiness had crept back in.

"Are we ever going to talk about the elephant in the room?" he began softly.

"Which elephant would that be?" She let out a humorless laugh.

He shifted his weight awkwardly, searching for the words. "We've never really talked about this, Jordan."

They hadn't, and it was something she had desperately wanted to avoid. But now as they stood out on the terrace making small talk against the undercurrent of tension, it seemed silly to think that they could simply pick up and pretend as if nothing had happened between them. "No, I guess we haven't," she said quietly.

"I just want to clear the air. Make sure things are okay between us." The moonlight streamed out from behind a cloud, and she could make out the pained earnestness on his face. "I know that things ended badly, but there's another few months in this campaign, and we're going to be seeing a lot of each other. I just want you to know there aren't any hard feelings about what happened. I've been wanting to say that for awhile, and I'm just glad I've gotten the chance to say it. And not in some email or Christmas card. But in person. Finally."

The bare simplicity of his words startled her. For all his boyish, small-town charm, she supposed he had always been the mature one in the relationship. She found it hard to speak.

"Look, we've got our own lives now. I'm engaged to this terrific girl, and you've obviously got a great thing going with Reed, so...there's no reason why we should be uncomfortable. There's no reason we can't come out of this thing as friends, right?"

"Absolutely." She smiled up at him. "Friends."

His shoulders dropped with relief. "Great." And then, softer, "That's great."

They stood for a moment, not knowing quite what to do or say. They both became aware of the piano music trickling out onto the terrace.

_The Way You Look Tonight. _Jerome Kern.She gave him a wistful smile.

The song had played at a piano bar where they had met for dinner one night early in their relationship. He had spontaneously pulled her to her feet, and they slow-danced there on the tiny dance floor. Later, they had gone back to her apartment and made love for the first time, and afterwards, he had hummed the tune softly as they lay in each other's arms and drifted into a contented sleep.

Yes, he remembered, too. He bit his lip and looked away.

"I guess I'd better go," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Good night, Jordan."

He turned and went slowly back into the bright clatter of the party.

She stood in stillness for a long while, knowing suddenly that this was all going to be much, much more difficult than she ever thought it would be.

XXXXXXX

No one spoke on the way home. Jordan kept her head turned towards the window and watched the street lights whiz past on the road back to the city.

Reed finally reached over and stroked the back of her neck. "I missed you tonight. Where did you run off to?"

She debated quickly how much to tell him. "Clearing the air," she said quietly, echoing Woody's own words.

Reed said nothing for a moment. "...Woody."

"Yeah..."

"Everything okay?"

They came to a stoplight then, and in the glow of the red light, she could see the look of genuine concern on his face. She owed him some kind of truth. Not all of it. Men always think they want the whole truth, but they never do.

She took a deep breath and began slowly. "Things between us didn't exactly end on the best of notes. I admit...we were both a little shocked to see each other last week at the banquet, but it's all water under the bridge. Everything's cool. Really."

"Good. I'm glad." His hand slid down and fell onto her knee. "We're coming up to the turnoff for your place. You want me to drop you off?"

She turned it over in her head. Woody was right. They had their own lives now. She had...how did Woody put it?...a great thing going with Reed.

_Water under the bridge._

"No. Let's go to your place."

He grinned, and the car sped on.


	3. Chapter 3

John Hogan's "little Labor Day get together" meant a catered affair at his sprawling estate with roast pigs on spits, strolling musicians, and seemingly enough people to fill a stadium.

Kristi had been wearing designer flats and designer capris with a sweater knotted _just-so_ around her shoulders when Woody had picked her up. She had obviously spent the better part of her morning trying to look effortlessly casual. She was mortified to see him in khaki shorts and a golf shirt, and now he understood why as he watched the swirl of madras plaid, Lily Pulitzer, and tennis whites around him.

He realized after they had been there for some time that he hadn't seen Jordan yet. He had run into her a few times at one function or another during the last few weeks. They had exchanged niceties and made some casual party banter, but that was it. For the best, really. His dreamy notion of creating some cozy, platonic relationship was probably unrealistic, not to mention dangerous. Even if he did swear to himself up and down that he was completely over Jordan.

Kristi had gotten a call and had wandered off in search of better cell phone reception, leaving him to amble the grounds alone. He came to a place where the earth crested and then dropped down to a terrace below. Jordan was there, alone, with her feet dangling in the pool.

She wore a floral pink sundress and a pair of dainty pink sandals sat on the edge of the pool beside her.

Jordan Cavanaugh in a pink sundress. He paused and took the image in. She looked lovely, as she always did, soft and feminine, but it seemed so incongruous, like a lumberjack in a tutu.

He shook his head and watched her for a moment. Her face was dark and distracted. He had never seen her so sad the way she was now and the way she had been this last month. Sadness implied a resignation to one's fate, and _that _was not Jordan Cavanaugh.

She lifted a bottle of beer to her lips then and drained it.

_Now, _that's _Jordan,_ he thought as he grinned to himself.

She saw him then and raised the bottle to him in recognition. He ambled down the bank and sat beside her.

"Enjoying the festivities, I see," she said.

"Yeah, that's some party. In my world, a barbecue means you call up a few friends, buy some beer, throw some brats on the grill, play some lawn darts or badminton if you've got a big enough yard. But this..."

"Yeah. Just you and few hundred of John Hogan's close, personal friends."

They sat silently for a time as she made slow, swirling eddies in the water with her bare feet.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes against the midday sun.

"That's a...nice dress, Jordan."

"He said sarcastically," she shot back.

"No, really, it's..."

"Oh, come on. I feel like a Stepford wife in this thing. Barbie Pink is _not_ exactly my color."

"No! No! It's actually a very nice dress, and you..." He paused, wondering at the appropriateness of admiring his old girlfriend. "You...you look terrific in it." He scratched his head. "I've just never really seen you wear anything like it before."

"Reed likes me to dress up for these things," she said with a shrug and gave her beer another slug.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes at these gatherings she would laugh and shoot out some zinger, and she seemed happy and at ease. More often, when she thought no one was looking, he had watched her retreat into herself, and it seemed the light in her eyes had gone out.

Suddenly she jumped to her feet and slipped on her shoes. "You wanna get out of here?"

XXXXXX

Yes. He'd said yes. He opened his mouth to tell her that he needed to stay here with Kristi, and he didn't really think it was right to leave the party, especially not with his former girlfriend.

He'd opened his mouth to say all that, but instead, the word, "yes" came out, and he found himself sneaking across the lawn and waiting with her like two giggling teenagers while the parking valet went to get Reed's car.

"Sweet mama..." he exhaled when the platinum Jaguar XK convertible pulled up in front of them. He reached out hopefully for the keys, but Jordan snatched them from the valet's hand.

"Dream on, farmboy." She slid behind the wheel. "You coming?"

"Jordan, I don't know if this is such a good idea."

"Come on, man! We're just going for a quick spin. They won't even miss us."

He ran his hand admiringly along the side of the car. It was a sweet piece of machinery. He was bored stiff at this thing, and Kristi would, most likely, never realize he was gone. And then, it was a chance to spend some time with Jordan. If only in the most fraternal and upright of ways, of course.

"Come on! You know you don't want to stay at this stuffy old party any more than I do."

He managed to jump into the passenger seat just before she put the car in gear and tore down the driveway.

XXXXXX

A half hour later, they were still driving, on and on down endless roads. They laughed together as the car hugged the curves of the road. She looked over at him once and flashed a carefree grin, and she seemed to him to be herself again.

Woody glanced at his watch. Someone would notice they were gone.

"Hey, Jordan, think we should head back?

She responded by accelerating. He looked over. The speedometer was inching toward sixty.

"Hey, uh, Jordan. Maybe you should slow down a little."

"Come on! Live a little!"

"It's not living I'm worried about right now, Jordan, it's dying. These back roads are kind of twisty," he shouted over the noise of the engine.

She shot him a mischievous sideways glance and threw the car into a higher gear.

He dug his fingers into the door handle. "Jordan, you are making me very nervous right now."

The car whipped around another corner as the road disappeared into a patch of woods. Just ahead, a truck pulled off of a service road and lumbered out into their path.

"Jordan...JORDAN!"

She gave the steering wheel a quick turn, and the car veered off the road and into the woods. He instinctively threw his forearms in front of his face as the car caromed down a bank and landed with a splash.

He opened his eyes to see the front tires and hood of Reed Davis' Jaguar sinking into six inches of pond water. Jordan's face had gone ashen, and a splatter of muddy goo covered her dress.

There was a moment of complete, jaw-dropping noiselessness .

Woody swallowed hard, turning the enormity of the situation over in his head.

"I ditched a party with my ex-girlfriend. Who happens to be the current girlfriend of one of the most powerful men in Boston," he deadpanned slowly. "And we just. Wrecked. His Jag."


	4. Chapter 4

In the realm of bad things, this was a _very bad thing_ indeed.

Woody hoisted himself over the door into the knee-high water and sloshed around to Jordan's side of the car. She still had a death grip on the steering wheel.

"You okay, Jordan?"

She nodded slowly. "Fine..."

He held his arms out. "Here, I'll carry you. The water is kind of deep."

She pulled herself out of her seat and sat on the top of the car door. "I can manage."

"Just let me help you, Jordan. You'll ruin your dress."

"And we wouldn't want _that_ to happen," she muttered as she grabbed her purse and threw one leg over the side of the car.

"Come on, Jordan..."

"I said I..." Before she could finish, he scooped her up in his arms and set her down on the bank.

"Thanks," she said grudgingly and rummaged through her purse for her cell phone. "I guess I should call Reed."

She moved away and dialed the number. Woody couldn't make out the words, but he could hear her hushed, urgent tones. There was a long pause where he assumed Reed was responding, then she spoke again, short and sharp.

After a moment, she snapped the phone shut and turned back toward Woody. "_That_ went well," she said with grim sarcasm. "He's calling a tow truck, and he said he'd let Kristi know where we were." His stomach flipped. He supposed he should call Kristi himself, but he didn't.

He watched Jordan mutely, unsure of what to say.

"He's just mad right now," he started uneasily. "I'm sure after he thinks about it, he'll just be glad you're okay."

She gave him a half-hearted smile, and he knew he was wrong. She was miserable and had somehow gotten herself stuck, as irretrievably stuck as that Jaguar. In past times, Woody had been Jordan's protector, and it was a role he had played willingly. But he couldn't save her from this, and he ached to see her so defeated.

She sighed and sat down on a fallen log with her elbows on her knees.

It was not his place anymore. They had been out of each other's lives for two years, but somehow this secluded spot had created an instant intimacy between them. He came over and sat silently beside her.

"Are you okay, Jordan?"

"Yeah. I said I was fine."

"No, I don't mean the accident...."

She looked up at him, somehow stunned that he had seen through her not-too-convincing facade. Her face fell, and she looked away.

"I'm _fine_. Things are just crazy right now."

He wouldn't pursue it. He nodded and walked down to the water's edge. The pond rippled with a light breeze, and the peace was broken only by buzz of the cicadas.

The drive up had been exhilarating and it had brought them to this lovely, hidden place. It occurred to him that it was just the kind of day he wanted to have with Jordan. Minus the stunningly bad judgment and the wrecked Jaguar.

Her voice cut through the stillness. "Are you glad you left Homicide?"

He cocked his head in thought. It wasn't something he'd given much thought to. It had always seemed like something he needed to do rather than something he wanted to do.

"They keep me busy, that's for sure," he said after a beat. "Technically it was a promotion. I've got a couple of rookies under my supervision. It's not bad." He shrugged indifferently.

He tossed a rock and it landed with a plunk in the middle of the pond.

"Why'd you do it?" she asked quietly. "Why'd you take the transfer?"

He tossed another rock. "That's easy. No homicide, no dead bodies. No dead bodies, no Jordan Cavanaugh."

He turned to her then and his eyes met hers. He suspected she had always known why he left homicide, but she quickly looked away in remorse.

She stood and without speaking she walked through the thicket of trees up towards the road to wait for the tow truck.

XXXXXXX

It was another 20 minutes before the truck rumbled into view. The driver shook his head at the sight of the semi-submerged Jaguar and went wordlessly to work.

Kristi was not far behind. She pulled the car over with a screech, and Woody scrambled up the bank.

"You coming, Jordan?"

She shook her head. "Nah, you guys go on."

"Jordan..."

"It's okay. I'll hitch a ride with the driver."

He stood hesitantly with one hand on the door handle. Kristi's voice came from inside the car. "_Wood-_y. She said she's okay."

He waited for a moment and then slid into the passenger seat.

He held his breath and waited for Kristi to speak. Her lower lip was quivering, and her big eyes were welled with tears. She sniffed.

"I don't understand. Is she prettier than me?"

Woody sighed. "I'm sorry, Kristi. I'm really, really sorry."

"You said it wouldn't be a problem. You said you were over her," she sniveled.

"That's not it," he said wearily. "It's just...I felt completely out of place at that party, and she was the only other person there I knew. It was stupid."

"It's my fault," Kristi wailed. "It's me, isn't it? I've neglected you terribly since I got this new job. Do you want me to quit? Is that what you want?"

"No! No! Look, I'm sorry. It was wrong. It was all my fault, and I apologize. All right? I'm sorry."

She drove on and sniffed once, loudly.

"You still want to get married, don't you, Woody?"

"Yes, _of course_."

"You don't have feelings for her?

"No."

"You're not in love with her?"

"No."

"Good." She looked over at him. She was remarkably dry-eyed, and her voice was ice-cold. "Then you can promise me you'll never see her or speak to her again."

XXXXXX

Jordan and Reed were locked in a contest of wills, as it so frequently was between them. They didn't speak. Not from the time she was dropped off at John Hogan's house, not during the car ride back to the city in the hastily delivered rental car, not as they pulled up in the drive to Reed's place. He got out of the car and went in the house and headed up the stairs. She walked several paces behind.

"You're going to have to speak to me eventually, Reed," she said from the foot of the stairs. She had conceded this round.

He spun around and pointed down at her accusingly. "Don't start, Jordan. It seems to me I have the right to be angry with you on about ten different levels, so really. Don't start with me."

He turned back and stormed up the stairs to the landing. She ran after him.

"Hey, don't walk away! I'm sorry about the car, but I'm not some teenager who stole the keys to her dad's Buick!"

"No, Jordan, you're an adult. If you were a teenager, your little joyride might at least be understandable." He was in the bedroom now. He whipped his shirt off angrily.

"Do you know how boring that barbecue was? I was going out of my mind! What was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to show me some respect and consideration. And _not _leave. And _not_ steal my car. And _not _run off with your old boyfriend."

She wagged a finger at him. "That's what this is really about, isn't it? About Woody? You're jealous!"

"Tell me, Jordan. How am I supposed to feel?!" He raised his hands above his head in exasperation.

He paced the floor for a moment, then turned to her suddenly, his hands on his hips. His face had changed. His eyes were cold and narrow. She gasped. It was a look she had never seen before, and it sent a sudden frisson of terror through her. When he spoke, his voice was calm and dripped with acid.

"I don't know what I am supposed to feel, Jordan. To be jealous would imply that I feel threatened. And really, that's just comical. How can I be threatened by that mediocrity of a detective with his Florsheim shoes and his Fantastic Sam's haircut and his glorified-secretary of a fiancee? But if that's the way you want to play it, I'll play it. I don't want you to see him again."

The words sent her reeling. She had always suspected, _feared_, that there was this side to him, but she had always believed that he saved his cruelty and ruthlessness for the courtroom and back room political negotiations. "I'm a grown woman. You can't tell me what to do."

He turned from her and continued to undress. He calmly dropped his watch into the tray on his dresser. "I'm not telling you, Jordan. I'm asking you. I would hope that would be enough."

She turned then and went into the closet that had been designated hers. She randomly pulled some clothes off the hangers and stuffed them into a duffle bag.

"What do you think you're doing, Jordan?" He asked with curiosity, rather than concern.

"You know what? You haven't even asked me how I am. You haven't even said, 'Gee, I'm glad you're okay. I'm glad you weren't hurt.'"

She came out from the closet and grabbed a set of keys from the dressing table. "I'm taking the Expedition. Or do I need permission?"

"Where are you going?"

"To my apartment. It is still _my_ apartment, isn't it? I do still have something of my own." She dashed out of the room and into the hallway.

"JoJo, wait." His voice had softened. She hesitated and set the bag down for a moment. "That's it, JoJo. Now. Come back in here," he crooned. "And we'll talk about this."

She picked up the bag. "My name is Jordan."

She ran down the stairs and into the night.

x


	5. Chapter 5

She drove around for an hour after leaving Reed's house. She rolled down the windows, and the late summer air was invigorating. "I Will Survive" came on the oldies station. She turned it up full blast and sang blissfully along, oblivious to the stares from the car that had pulled up next to her at the stoplight.

And then reality began to seep in. Far from feeling liberated, she suddenly felt small and alone. She had always been fearless. Solitude was never something she dreaded. Quite the opposite.

Had Reed broken her spirit that much? No, it wasn't all his fault, she knew. She supposed a fear of being alone was what attracted her to him the first place. It was something else. She drove on, bewildered as to how she had become this person.

She made the turn onto her block and was aware of a figure hovering outside her building. She squinted her eyes. It was Woody, sitting on her front stoop. She pulled up into a parking space across the street and tried to ignore the flutter of joy she felt.

He stood when he saw her. He was nervous, she could tell, from the way he always thrust his fists into his pants pockets.

"Jordan! I was hoping you'd come home tonight. I was going to give it another fifteen minutes..." he started uneasily.

"Woody? What are you doing here?"

"I, uh..." He cleared his throat. "I just came to see how you were doing."

She smiled ruefully. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"Good. Good." He nodded vigorously and shuffled his feet nervously. She felt a sudden sense of dread.

"But that's not really why you came here," she said with foreboding.

There was a pause. "No. It's not." He shook his head slowly, and his eyes dropped to the sidewalk. "I wanted to tell you this in person and not just leave a message on your answering machine. I think I owe you at least that much."

"Tell me what, Woody?" she asked quietly, although she already feared the answer.

He stuttered for a moment, scanned the sky, anything to avoid speaking. "We can't see each other anymore, Jordan. We can't even talk. I know we just came back into each other's lives, and I can't tell you how much that has meant to me. But this has to be it."

"It's Kristi, isn't it? Do you want me to talk to her? She's got nothing to be jealous of," she said, even if she no longer believed it.

Woody put a hand up to stop her. "No. That's not going to help. This is just the way it has to be."

Neither spoke. They stood in stillness under the streetlight.

"Well. Goodbye, Jordan." He moved in towards her and bent his head down.

Their heads bobbed and dodged gracelessly until he planted an awkward kiss on her cheek.

He took a step back, and they stood for a long moment with eyes locked in sad understanding.

So this was to be it. She had ended things two years earlier. For the best, she had said, and she had been horribly wrong. It had taken this moment to realize it. She blinked back tears.

"Jordan, don't..." he said gently. He took a step in and lifted her face in his hands. "It's okay."

His mouth was on hers then. They kissed, long and slow, and it seemed to her that nothing else in the world existed but she and Woody and this place.

The kiss broke. They stood for a moment, his forehead pressed against hers.

And then he spoke in a whisper. "Goodbye, Jordan."

He took a step back from her and looked at her with regret.

"Wait a minute! You're going to kiss me like that and just walk away?"

"I'm sorry. That was wrong."

"It wasn't wrong, and you know it."

"Jordan, I have a fiancee. When I gave her that ring, I made a promise that I'd marry her and spend the rest of my life with her. Where I come from, that means something."

She turned and went up the stairs to the door of her building. She wouldn't let him see her cry. "Fine. Go."

She fumbled for her keys. She could sense that he was still standing mutely on the sidewalk behind her.

Suddenly he spoke again in an angry rush.

"_You_ ended things two years ago, Jordan. Not me. You've got a hell of a lot of nerve holding it against me because I've tried to move on with my life."

"You call that trying? Kissing me like that?"

"It was a mistake. I thought there was still something there. There's not."

"You're a lousy liar, Woody."

He threw his arms up. It seemed as if two years of repressed anger had bubbled to his surface. "What do you want me to do, Jordan? You want me to end things with Kristi? Is that what you want me to do? You want me to profess my undying love to you? You want me to get down on bended knee and ask you to marry me? I tried that once. I had the ring in my pocket and you told me you wanted some time alone. And then you didn't even have the decency to tell me to my face that you were never coming back."

She stood looking down at him in astonished silence. His face was twisted with anger. She had no idea that he had felt this way, and the revelation was stunning.

"Woody, I...."

But it was too late. He had turned on his heel and headed down the block to his car. She was still staring down at the space he had occupied on the sidewalk long after he pulled away.

She staggered up to her apartment, the image of the last time she had been with Woody playing through her mind. She had curled up on his lap after she told him about their lost baby and had ended things. And now she knew that he had wanted to marry her.

There was nothing left in her. She couldn't even cry. She collapsed in a chair and stared at the dark television. In the morning, she would be there, still wearing the mud-splattered pink sundress.


	6. Chapter 6

_I think this chapter is a bit lame, but it's hard to write with a house full of holiday guests! Sorry! :-)_

_Hope everyone had a great Christmas._

XXXXXXXXXX

A week later, Reed hadn't called. She hadn't really expected him to. That was just the way things had always been between them. He was every bit as stubborn as she, if not more so.

Woody hadn't called either. She had thought he would, or at least hoped he might.

She hadn't been able to stop thinking about that night. The kiss, his confession. A week later it was still staggering.

So now, it was truly over between them. It had been her doing the first time, and she was living to regret it all over again. Now, every shrink's admonition that she couldn't run from her past forever was being proven to her in spades.

Work was some solace. She had signed up for double shifts all week and found she could distract herself to some degree. And then as she drove home or finally closed her eyes to sleep the sharp pain began to find its way back into her consciousness.

What if she hadn't lost the baby? What if he had asked? What if she had said yes? What if? What if? What if? Her mind reeled.

She stared down at the body on the autopsy table in front of her, wrapped in the comforting solitude. It was a young woman, about the same age as herself.

Garret entered the room and breezed by her.

"Whaddya got?"

"Caucasian female. Nancy Parker. Age 36. Fell down the stairs on her way to breakfast while her husband and two kids watched. Cervical fracture at C3. Spinal shock. Died almost instantly."

Garret shook his head grimly. "Such a fine line between a few nasty bumps and bruises and lying in the morgue."

Lily came through the door. "Here's that file you asked for on Nancy Parker. Is this her? So sad. I was just talking to her husband. He's devastated."

Nigel came in the room just then, whistling happily to himself. So much for solitude.

"Look who's back from vacation," Garrett muttered.

"Rested and ready to work. I know you all missed me terribly." He was cheerful. She couldn't take cheerful.

She could see out of the corner of her eye, that he was looking over at her with a mischievous smirk.

"I heard you and our old friend Woodrow made quite a _splash_ at your big shindig last weekend," he said teasingly.

"Ha Ha."

"Yeah, you give new meaning to the words 'crashing a party.'"

"Nigel, you're bad..." Lily chastized with a laugh.

"Okay, enough with the puns." Jordan opened the file and began to skim through it.

"What's wrong, luv? Am I _driving_ you crazy?"

"Back off, Nige. I've got a scalpel, and I know how to use it."

"Touch-y. We'd better tread lightly with Jordan. She might go on a crying _Jag_." Nigel snickered to himself.

She slammed the file down on the counter then and without speaking, pushed the doors to the autopsy room open and stormed down the hallway.

There was a beat before anyone in the room spoke.

"Was it something I said?" Nigel asked sheepishly.

"She is coming back, isn't she?" Lily leaned out into the hallway.

"I'm sure she's just taking an early lunch," Garret said reassuringly. But he knew Jordan, and her return was nothing he could count on with any certainty.

XXXXXXXX

She didn't come back after lunch. At the end of her shift, she still hadn't returned, and Garret remained in his office, hoping that she would wander back in. But he feared the worst.

The phone rang, and he picked it up on the first ring.

"Macy..."

"Garret, it's me."

"Jordan! Where the hell are you?"

"I'm fine. I'm coming back." There was a pause. "I'm coming back this time. I promise."

"You want to tell me what this is about?"

"Look, I'm sorry, Garret. I know I'm supposed to fill out some form in triplicate to request vacation, but I'm asking for a few days off."

"Tell me where you are, Jordan." He strained to hear any background noise that might give him some clue as to her whereabouts.

"Don't worry. I haven't crossed state lines. You don't need to call the feds. I'm just..somewhere I can clear my head," she said, more to herself than to Garret.

"Jordan, does this have anything to do with what Nigel was saying in the autopsy room?"

"What's that, Garret? I can't hear you. My battery is going."

"Jordan, what is..."

She was gone.

He sat for a moment, his forehead creased with worry. After some thought he thumbed through his rolodex, picked up the phone and dialed number.

"Hoyt here."

"Detective, I'm glad to see you haven't changed your cell phone. This is Garret Macy from the M.E.'s office."

"Dr. Macy, long time no hear," Woody said with surprise.

"We'll have to save the pleasantries for another time. It's about Jordan. I need your help."

There was a brief pause. "Okay..."

"She was taking a real ribbing from Nigel this morning about your little joyride Labor Day weekend, and all of sudden she took off running. We haven't seen her since..."

He interrupted with urgency. "Is everything okay? What can I do?"

"She just called. I know she's still in Massachusetts. She said she was going somewhere she could clear her head. I got the impression it was somewhere she's been before. I thought you might know."

There was another small silence. "Yeah. I do."

"Great. If you can give me the specifics, I thought I'd head out there and check up on her. I don't know...she hasn't been herself lately."

"If it's all the same to you, Doc, I think I'll go myself. Thanks for the call," he said evenly.

Woody quickly hit the red button on his cell phone before Garret could speak again.

"Who was that?" Kristi asked with apprehension. Woody looked at her across the dinner table.

"Dr. Macy from the M.E.'s office. They have some questions about an old homicide case I was on a few years ago."

"Oh. I see." She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin.

"I, uh, need to get down there and review the file with them. They've got some new evidence, and I need to answer some questions." He cringed inwardly and rose from the table, hoping it all sounded more believable to Kristi than it did to him.

"_Oh, really?_" Apparently, it didn't. "You're going now? In the middle of dinner?"

"I'm sorry, Kristi."

She looked down at her plate and appeared to be working very hard to muster up some tears.

"Oh, it's okay. It's not very good anyway."

"Kristi, it's _fine."_

"No. No. I was trying to make a nice dinner for us, but you've got to go, so it'll just get cold," she said in a whiny sing-song.

"It's fine, Kristi. Put it in the fridge, and I'll eat it when I get back."

"It won't reheat very well. But that's fine."

He stood and watched her for a moment, glumly poking at her food. He knew he was supposed to reassure her that her meal was delicious. He knew he was supposed to sit down.

"Then throw it away," he said.

He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. She sat motionless there at the table with those big, shocked eyes.

"I'll call you later," he said gently and headed out the kitchen door. He could see her through the window as the eased into his car.

He knew there would be a tearful confrontation whenever he returned. He swallowed hard and considered going back inside for a brief moment. She was his fiancee. She was his first priority. He watched her, staring straight ahead with her hands folded primly in front of her.

Then he turned the ignition key and began the familiar drive to Jordan.


	7. Chapter 7

_Note change in rating. The story is now PG-13._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He could be there in under two hours, even in the evening traffic.

His pulse began to race as he grew closer with each mile, fighting that queasy feeling of anticipation, rehearsing what he would say to Jordan when he reached her. Nothing sounded right.

It was ridiculous, off to see Jordan. She wasn't his problem anymore. Still, some force pulled him on, and he was powerless to turn the car around. He needed to see her.

He dialed Kristi's number several times on his cell phone but always found himself hitting "clear" rather than "send." He wasn't sure what to say to Kristi, either.

When he had met her, she had seemed so soft and vulnerable. She needed his protection. He could protect her. It's what he did.

He soon learned that the softness masked a steely core. All the eye-batting and constant doubt of her self-worth were coldly calculated. So began the cycle of manipulation and emotional blackmail followed by Woody's inevitable capitulation. But by that time, he was in love with her, or perhaps thought he was.

So, he had proposed. He was not without feeling for her, and they had been dating for almost a year. A proposal was expected of him. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

It hadn't occurred to him at the time, at least not consciously, but marrying someone else seemed a way to exorcise Jordan's ghost from his life forever. He had thought he was over her. Now, he knew simply that she was not to be gotten over.

So here he was. He pulled down the road that led to the beach. The motel where they had stayed some two years before was still there, off to the left. There was a Ford Expedition parked in the lot with an M.E.'s Office parking sticker on the windshield.

He breathed a sigh of relief. She _was_ here after all. She had brought him to this place once after they began dating and used those exact words she had used to Garret. "It's a place I come to clear my head. But I'll share it with you," she had said with a gentle laugh as they walked the beach hand in hand.

He parked his car and got out. The sun was setting. He knew just where she would be.

XXXXXXXX

She stood on the beach looking at over the water in the twilight. The tide licked at her ankles and her chestnut hair fluttered out behind her in the light salt breeze.

She turned her head slightly at the sound of his approach. "You found me," she said evenly.

He walked down to the water's edge and looked over at her.

"You've got a lot of people back in Boston who are worried about you. What happened today, Jordan?"

She was silent for a moment. Emotion played over her face. "She was pregnant," she said quietly.

"Who was pregnant, Jordan?"

"Nancy Parker. I was about to do an autopsy. Nigel was there hammering away. He just couldn't leave it alone, you know? Like I needed to be reminded of that. I tried not to pay attention. I tried to stick my nose in the file. But I looked down and saw that she was about three weeks pregnant when she died. Her husband didn't know. She probably didn't even know. All of a sudden, I couldn't breathe. I was staring down at the page, and Nigel's voice was nattering in my ear, and I just had to get out of there."

They didn't speak. He walked a few steps away, then suddenly turned to face her.

"When you lost the baby...why did you end things, Jordan?"

She shook her head slowly. "I've been going over that in my head for two years. I'm not sure I know the answer. Everything was going great. And then I found out I was pregnant. I panicked. Me, a mother? I mean, what if I turned out like my own mother? And then just like that, I wasn't pregnant anymore. I felt relieved and guilty and sad all at the same time. And all of a sudden, it wasn't this fun, casual thing anymore. It was real. I couldn't deal with that, so I ran."

"Well, that's the difference between you and me, Jordan. It was never just a fun, casual thing for me," he said with an edge of bitterness in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Woody. I didn't know you felt that way two years ago."

"Would it have made a difference?"

She answered him with silence. And then, finally, "I'd give anything to be able to go back and change things."

"Well, that's just it. You can't change things. We all make decisions, and we've got to live with the consequences." She looked over at him then. His face was dark.

"Are you talking about me or yourself, Woody?" He turned away from her without a response. "This whole Midwestern-values-man-of-your-word thing is reeeeaaal admirable, but don't you think you're taking it too far? If you don't love her..."

He whipped back around to her. "Leave her out of this."

She took a few hesitant steps toward him. "Why did you come here tonight?"

His eyes dropped down to the sand. He had wondered himself. Dr. Macy could have come here to check on her just as easily as he could.

He looked out over the water. The sun was a thin, glowing sliver in the darkening sky.

"I've always loved you, Jordan," he began softly. "Almost since the first minute we met. God knows you've give me enough reasons not to, but I do." He turned to her then with a small, bittersweet smile. It brought hot, stinging tears to her eyes.

"So, what happens now?"

He shrugged sadly. "I go back to Kristi. You go back to Reed."

She opened her mouth to tell him that she had left Reed, probably for good, but she stopped herself.

"I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.....Goodbye, Jordan."

She nodded, couldn't speak. He turned and headed up the beach and disappeared into the blackness. Only then did she begin the slow walk up the beach, not even bothering to put on her shoes as she crossed the rough gravel drive up to the motel.

She blinked her eyes in the dim as she crossed the parking lot. It was Woody, standing uneasily next to her car. She walked to him wordlessly and stood in front of him.

He reached out and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her toward him. He kissed her then, and she did not resist.

When the kiss broke, he spoke in a rough whisper. "Tell me to go and I'll go."

She shook her head. "I can't make that decision for you."

She backed away from him, never breaking his gaze, and slipped the key into the door to her room. She went inside, leaving the door open, and stood in the middle of the room. Waiting.

It seemed an eternity. She waited for the sound of his footfall or the sound of his car starting and driving away as quickly as possible. Something other than this dreadful silence.

And then he was there, in the doorway. He came inside and closed the door shut behind him.

He crossed to her warily and stroked her cheek. She reached up and took his hand in hers, pulling him in to her. They kissed with the fumbling awkwardness of first-time lovers, but then they quickly fell into the familiarity of each other.

He kissed her just in the hollow above her collar bone, and she let out a familiar little hum of contentment. She waited for him to protest as she unbuttoned his shirt, but he did not.

They eased down onto the bed. She shut her eyes then as he ran a trail of kisses down her neck, her soft belly, and back up to her eager mouth.

He looked down at her, stroking her hair, searching her eyes. She gave him a small nod and pulled him down to her. Even after two years, their bodies fell back into an easy rhythm.

They had passed the point of no return. She closed her eyes and tried to shut all the world but this. It did not matter what would come in the morning. She had this, and the feel of his body next to hers.

Afterwards, they did not speak. She lay in his arms as he hummed softly, as he had always done, until she drifted away into an easy sleep.

She woke sometime after dawn, the warm sense of peace flooding back to her. She stretched drowsily and rolled over.

The other side of the bed was cold and empty. She sat there stunned for a moment and pulled the sheet around her, blinking back the inevitable flow of tears.

She had thought that whatever the new day brought for her and Woody, it wouldn't matter. But as she sat shivering in the early-morning chill, she knew. Yes, it mattered after all.


	8. Chapter 8

_This is it! The final chapter. Enjoy!_

_Happy New Year!_

XXXXXXXXXX

He lay in bed for hours, unable to sleep. Jordan was still there next to him, one arm draped over his chest, sleeping peacefully. Awash in the moonlight, her hair against the pillow and down her bare back, she looked more beautiful than he thought he had ever seen her.

It made leaving all the more difficult. He moved her arm and placed it gingerly onto the bed before dressing quickly and closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

It all felt so cowardly, leaving her without a word. He hated himself for it, but neither Kristi nor Jordan could come out of this without pain. Why should he be immune?

The last few months had been bittersweet. He had not been able to disguise how wonderful it had been to see Jordan again after two years, but any hopes of keeping the past at bay had faded with the summer air.

It had come to this, having her in his arms again. They had been hurtling inevitably towards this point since that meeting. It was what he had secretly wanted since he saw her at that crowded banquet, no matter how hard he had tried to tamp it down into a hidden corner of his brain.

There could be no neat resolution. There would be no happily-ever-after with Jordan. He would do the right thing, return to Boston and beg for Kristi's forgiveness. He only hoped Jordan could come to forgive him someday, too.

The sense of dread mounted as he pulled into Kristi's drive. She had left the light by the kitchen door on, either in the naive hope that he would return or in the smug assurance that he would.

He crept into the house. His dinner plate was sitting at the table where he had left it hours earlier. He hoped to make it quietly to the living room sofa for a few hours of sleep before seeing Kristi in the morning.

As he crossed the kitchen into the living room, he could see her sitting there rigidly on the sofa in the dim lamplight, a stack of papers on the coffee table in front of her.

He stood there, his hands hanging limply beside him.

"You weren't at the M.E.'s office tonight. Were you." It was a statement, not a question.

He shook his head slowly. "No."

She exhaled heavily and leaned forward to pick up the stack of papers. She spoke wearily. "The bridesmaids' dresses have already been custom altered. Two-hundred dollars a piece. They can't be returned." She tossed the paper on to the floor. "Six-hundred dollars worth of flowers." Another piece of paper fluttered to the floor. "My parents have already put a non-refundable deposit down on the club for the reception. They don't get that money back." She crumpled another bill in her hand and let it fall from her hand. "Are you willing to burn all that money? Are you willing to throw everything away?"

She fell back on the sofa dramatically and waited for a response.

He had thought when he came into the room that he would know exactly what to say to her. He had hoped that seeing her again would remind him of things he had come to love about her in the first place.

He wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted to tell her that he would be true to his word and marry her in December. He wanted to tell her. But he couldn't.

She sat looking at him, and he stood dumbly looking back. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized he was not going to speak.

"I'm sorry, Kristi," he said finally. "I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, but I can't. It wouldn't be fair to you."

"It's _her_," Kristi spat. "Isn't it."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. There seemed nothing else to say.

It was a long moment they stood there. He turned then and went slowly back outside and into his car.

He only hoped he could make it back to the Cape before Jordan awoke.

XXXXXXX

Jordan had sat there in bed for some time hugging her knees to her chest, wrapped only in the thin white sheet. She cried a bit, softly and silently, and then stretched back out onto the bed and managed to fall back into a restless sleep.

The sleep had not left her feeling any more refreshed when she woke again an hour or so later. She managed to drag herself into the bathroom and stood motionless in the shower, the stream whipping into her back.

So, he was gone. This was how it was to be. It wasn't unexpected. She knew that he would return to Kristi. It was strangely admirable, consigning himself to marry someone he didn't really love because he had given his word.

If she believed in that kind of thing, she could consider it some kind of divine retribution. She had ended things with Woody without a word two years earlier, and now he had done the same.

As she dressed, she felt a new calm fall over her. She had wanted last night to happen, she hadn't needed to be talked into it. It would be the bittersweet coda to their relationship. Perhaps now she could move on.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and opened the door. Woody sat in his car, head down, hands still gripping the steering wheel. She felt a sudden rush of emotions. She was angry, deservedly so, but there was no point in denying that she wanted to see him.

She walked over to the passenger side and slipped in next to him without a word. They sat staring ahead.

"Please tell me you were out for donuts," she said quietly.

"I was hoping I could make it back here before you woke up. I saw your light on in there, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if you would still want me to come in."

She braced herself, not certain if she wanted to hear what he had to say. "Tell me what happened tonight, Woody."

"I went home. To Kristi's. I thought it was the right thing to do. I don't break my promises. And then I saw her, and I knew all of a sudden marrying her was _not_ the right thing to do. Not when I am totally, completely, miserably in love with someone else."

She slid her hand across the seat to him, unable to speak. He wrapped his fingers around hers.

"Let's talk a walk."

They headed back down to the beach, neither one saying much. The September morning was crisp and bright. They had taken this walk once or twice before some two years earlier. They had sailed here, and then watched the sunset and fallen into each other's arms one late spring weekend.

She turned to him suddenly. "What's done is done. We can't get the past back. If this is going to work out, we can't dwell on what might have been."

He nodded slowly, but she knew they were both thinking of the baby. Perhaps they always would.

They walked on. It had been a long, dark two years, and she felt lighter than she had in a long while. After feeling like a stranger in her own life for so long, she knew this was where she wanted to be.

Finally they stopped and looked out across the water. He slipped his arm around her waist.

"You getting hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure. How about we go for a drive up the coast and stop at that little breakfast place off 6A?"

"Sounds good," he grinned. "But this time, _I'm _driving."

THE END


End file.
